Loki's Judgment
by Sugar and Migraines
Summary: Loki stands for judgment by the Allfather. Will he be forgiven or will he die a traitors death? Did Thor bring his brother home only to lose his forever?


**Because every Loki fangirl needs to write at least one. Please review, it makes me very happy and I've been pretty depressed lately.**

Thor looked down at his brother, spilt upon the ground before the Allfather, _their_ father, a broken half-self that pained Thor to look upon. His brother had never been proud, not like Thor had been, but he had lost his will, his fire, chained and gagged he knelt, painfully thin from his self-inflicted fast as they awaited Odin's justice. Sif stood as his guard, though it was more to protect _Loki_ than the flood of bystanders who had come to bare tale of his punishment away to the winds. The Loki Thor had grown with, fought with, struggled against would have held his head high in face of such ridicule, but this broken man before him hid his face behind his hair, knelt where he should stand, made himself small and gave off fear in his posture and his cowering and his weary glances through dark tresses.

"Loki, you have been brought before us all to give your plea, and before the Allfather so he may bring your crimes against Asgard, and against Midgard, to justice." The Allfather spoke and Thor remembered a comment Loki had made years past about their fathers strange need to speak in the third person, _"One would think we didn't know who he is!"_ Now Loki just glanced up at Odin and slunk further within himself, his chin hit his chest. Sif awaited Odin's signal then removed the bit but Loki's tongue had stalled and Thor thought he saw Loki begin to shake.

He stayed that way for long moments, perhaps he had already divined his fate upon the expanse of cold marble before him, seen the future in the winding of black and gold and grey. Thor watched with his heart beating painfully in his throat as his brother doomed himself. "Please, brother." Thor's voice was hoarse like he'd been screaming, and perhaps that had been the dull burr in his ears before he'd broken the silence.

"I'm not…" Loki's voice was still smooth, silky and soft, and defeated. "I have never been your brother." A soft clamor began among the spectators.

"Loki…"

"I suppose you shall get your wish Thor, you always did believe you would slay the frost giants," Loki's voice had become thick with emotions, grief and anger and pain.

"Brother-"

"I am not your brother!" Loki shouted, looking up for the first time, tears streaming from his eyes, "And you should keep telling yourself that, over and over until it doesn't hurt anymore. I do. I hope it makes my death less painful for you; the last thing I ever wanted was your pain." Loki dropped his face again, and Thor could see the wracking sobs now, silent but choking and shattered.

"Broth-"

"STOP IT!" Loki screamed this time, through his tears and his sobs. "Just stop. Don't speak to me like your equal, I never was and if you had known and if you didn't cling to some fragmented memory you would see that, and you would hate me, and my death would be your absolution of all guilt. You should see me as the monster, you won't have to be in such pain to see me like this." Loki looked up again, meeting Thor's eyes, his own defeated and dull. "I can see your pain and it pains me, you thought I betrayed you and I did, but only ever to catch your attention." Loki's voice was nearly a whisper and the din silenced to hear him speak. "I only ever wanted to be like you, and like father, and mother. To look like you and act like you… but I was always different, always lesser, always strange. So see me as the villain, be proud and vain and wonderful, look at my death as a passing of the biggest evil to be conquered by Thor, God of Thunder, because I don't think I can bear your pain as well."

Odin sat and watched his sons, Thor's agony and Loki's self-contempt at his strangeness, and he knew he was to blame. He always had favored Thor, his true born son, for his looks and his skill with a blade and axe and hammer in battle, for his bloodlust and his rage. Odin had always felt intimidated by his frost giant son, who was always so quiet, immersed in his books and his magic and his _preciseness_. He had missed out on his duties as a father to treat his sons as equals and it had torn them apart where they had always been so close. He raised a hand and wiped it down his face. "I am getting old." It was a simple statement, but it sent the packed room to absolute stillness, his sons looked shocked, the Lady Sif appalled, and the crowd dumbfounded. For several long moments the silence stretched, and tor at nerves, and wrenched at guts before the Allfather spoke again.

"Loki, stand."

Loki licked his lips, and slowly stood, shaking off Sif's hand at his elbow, standing of his own power to face his demise. Thor paled and watched his father, silently pleading for mercy. Odin stood from his throne and descended the steps. Loki's head dropped, waiting for the strike of his blade, and Thor closed his eyes, tears finally falling. Lady Sif stepped back, and the crowd held its breathe.

Odin made his way to stand before his forgotten son, the painfully shy child who had played pranks to get their attention, even if it was only a cuff to the head or to be berated for his childish games. And as he stood there he was proud of the man he had become, to be vilified for his brothers greatness among their people and for the wit and laughter he had brought over their many years. He stood there, proud and saddened and feeling older than he ever had, and wrapped his arms about Loki, "You are forgiven."


End file.
